The Legend of the Return
by Foxes' Dreams
Summary: Somebody loves him, somebody leaves him. Fettered by poverty and toil, Chase is finally able to see that a dismissal is never a definite end. After realizing that he had become a loathsome and lifeless figure without love by his sight, he is now ready to retrieve the only person who can completely heal him. Vignette for 7x04 "Massage Therapy".


The Legend of the Return

T.V. Show: House M.D.

Pairing: Chase/Cameron

Rating: T

Summary: Somebody loves him, somebody leaves him. Fettered by poverty and toil, Chase is finally able to see that a dismissal is never a definite end. After realizing that he had become a loathsome and lifeless figure without love by his sight, he is now ready to retrieve the only person who can completely heal him. Vignette for 7x04

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Chase stepped in the condo with exhaustion rushing violently through his veins, a careful appraising eye scanning the normally empty hallway. His dark-circled and bloodshot eyes wandered around the room as though a presence should appear from a lonely and dusty corner at any time.

Uncollected pieces of clothing and a heavy lingering smell of perfume proved to be oddly foreign, a quiver of long-term resistance washing over him as he tried to get rid of her haunting and supple figure. A quick flame leaped in his eyes when he saw a book standing poised on the verge of the Victorian bookshelf balancing dangerously close to the edge. A remarkable fusion of grief and morality swept over him as he touched the side of the grey novel, realizing with a pang of guilt that her traces were everywhere, her touch still visible on all the surfaces. A shiver of apprehension crisped his skin synchronically with a sense of desolation and disillusionment which overwhelmed his already-clouded thoughts.

A knot settled in the pit of his stomach as he unconsciously remarked that the destiny was playing a cruel game of endurance with his cracked soul. Chase ran breathlessly to the bathroom, a soft insidious plea possessed his mind, his logical rationality lost in a sheaf of self-absorption.

A quick silvery light ruffled the stuffy stillness of the water as he splashed almost-frozen water on his loured forehead and he felt a queer, uncomfortable perplexity invading him.

Chase ignored the intense need to sleep as he began to experience a tumult of vehement grief rushing down his spine. A treacherous throb of her voice penetrated the stillness, his faint heart skipping a beat, a vague and wistful melancholy making his breathing become shallow and more rapid.

Chase sat on the wrinkled sofa with a loud thump, a well-bred mixture boldness and deflection marking all the reminisced memories on that old bookshelf that seemed at first a mundane and meaningless choice. A withering sensation of ineffable boredom made its way back into his mind, an odd calmness securing him for a moment. He lounged to take a novel to read, deliberately avoiding the uselessly cruel caprice of the fate. A book to beguile the tedious hours revealed to be a waste of time, his thoughts still drifting at the issue he insisted on keeping unresolved.

Beneath the cold glare of the desolate night, Chase's heart collapsed into a dreary and hysterical depression, conjuring up scenes of both incredible beauty and terror. The fruity smell of her hair and the feathery touch were still marking even his skin, a phantom presence actually toying with his shifting moods.

Maybe House was right. He did pick Kelly as a result of an exasperated pretense of ignorance. Maybe his mind unconsciously guided him to choose a doctor who would distract him from the lose that disfigured his confidence.

Chase finally realized that he disguised himself as a chill, critical impartiality, heart outranking mind. Doubts beset his lonely and daring soul; he tried to convince himself that the chance of return was already lost. Odds were against him. Dreams and visions were surpassed by reality and Chase tried in vain to shrug off the odd feeling.

He walked clumsily in the once-shared bedroom as though the ultimate solution to his intricate problems could be found in the room where ardor embraced pleasure. The sheets were neat and somehow endeared with sweetness. He had never had the guts to throw away the objects they used together, the expectation of a come-back darkening the anxiety of getting rid. Everywhere, there was the fragrance of a bountiful past, his white knuckled brushed the bed lingerie with exquisite grace, a harsh truth of the situation finally hitting him.

He wasted no time and opened the wooden drawer with fierce force, fragments of fugitive happiness dizzying his head. His head stiffened anew into a gray obstinacy as he caught sight of the wedding ring lying motionless in the obscure light. He was utterly detached from life; the ring itself looked exactly the way he remembered, fix, slightly-rusted, but still filled with saturnine youth and discreetly glowing.

Chase put the ring on his trembling finger with labored movements, a cynical phase of normalcy influencing his movements. He studied intently the golden band for a split second before submitting it back in its place in brooding silence.

He shambled away from the chamber with speed as he finally got aware of the colossal weight of stress upon his shoulders. He sighed deeply, from a kind of mental depletion, as he surveyed the stillness of the apartment.

Chase smoothed his quickening sensibilities, and rummaged his hair with his oddly-bolted hand. He settled back on the couch, but he still couldn't find comfort because he truly felt like sitting on sharp thorns.

He kept denying the truth. "She doesn't look like Cameron," has been his only defense, a lie he detected since he threw it out. He was finally accepting his obsessive need, but he was dimly mistrustful to satisfy it. He entangled in paradox as he kept putting in balance all the possibilities.

Chase was still sinking in regrets, but he was profoundly skeptical that reconciliation would be likely. He was living a nightmare, an unimaginable mass of guilt creeping in his thoughts. Flying to Chicago and retrieving the only thing he cherished most was extremely dangerous for his weak and broken soul. He was quacking on the precipice of a bad bilious plan; he writhed with impotent humiliation at the sight of him being dismissed once again.

He would fall back into the blackest melancholies with no doubt. His blue eyes were dilated with pain and fear and they were also filled with wondering interest.

He threw a measuring eye around himself, a pang of loneliness coming crashing down on his soul. A primrose path to dalliance always starts by taking a shot.

Wordlessly, Chase's limbs ran towards the entry and quickly grabbed his jacket, disappearing in the inky night. His hurrying thoughts claimed for utterance, the only thing flashing in front of his eyes was the point where he'd get to set things straight with Cameron. He dared to pronounce her name, now that his mood was unaccountably brighten by the scenario of a conscience leap into the light.

His face was divinely lit up by a glow of resolve and inspiration, his heart appearing to be abdicating its duties of producing speechless sorrow. Chase threaded a labyrinth of obscure streets as he grew more wanton with love, his steps coming more frequent. He held his breath in admiring silence, letting himself being devoured by a futuristic image of eradicating his flushed crimson.

As he made his way to the crowded airport, Chase airily lampooned their most cherished prejudices, a single questionable recess of the memory dancing across his lips.

 _Can you love me again?_

 **Author's Note:** Today is actually my first year anniversary on fanfiction and I really think as though I've reached such a huge milestone. I've never felt so appreciated anywhere else in my life. So, I'll take a few lines to thank all the people that encouraged me continually to keep publishing.

-Andreza, my muse and idea-bouncer who always has time to elaborate delicious prompts. All the late-night discussions we had and opinion shares just motivated me to transform spoilers in reality.

-Isabel who with a few simple words induced me the sense of actually being appreciated and also gave me everlasting awesome feedback.

-Jay, who actually polished all my raw writing skills and made me rethink the whole approach towards becoming better and learning continually.

-My mom, whose love for books and debate or commentary about plots launched me into this particular field.

Many sweet thanks go to all my viewers, too!

Read and Review! :*


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